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Eight kids, five foster parents, and one weird little gamma girl in four bedrooms and two baths.
I’m at home with hand-me-downs and the day-old, half-price hot dogs you snag right before the bodega closes.
This place has an infinity pool off the living room.
Pin-drop silent and pristine.
The dining room table’s set with glittering crystal, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and a chilled bottle of Bergerac that someone must’ve sprinted to the room.
I can pretend to be an heiress—I’ll pop chocolate strawberries all day—but I feel more like a cockroach dropped in cream.
Get me out of here.
I hurry through room after ridiculous room until I find the only one being lived in. Serafina’s jewelry box spills open on the cloud-white duvet of my dreams.
She owns more diamonds than a mine, all sparkling in the open, but nobody’s stupid enough to bling ring a cartel heiress.
Some of those diamonds are stuck to knife hilts.
I snoop until I find her bag propped on an armchair in the sitting area that’s bigger than my living cell.
Inside are her laptop, wallet, and phone.
Bingo.
Hugging the bag that’s my ticket to freedom, I check the last room. With an empty walk-in closet and a luxe, unwrinkled bedspread, there’s no sign that Nikolaj or anyone else has been in the suite.
And there’s no way I’m busting my ass to dig deeper.
I need out.
I’m heading for the door, ready to lie or blast free, but there’s already a body in my way.
“For you.” The guard who offers me his cell phone isn’t leering anymore. He’s paste-pale, with shaking fingers and bloodless lips.
“Who?”
“The boss.” He swallows.
Holy shit.
Nikolaj?
Play it cool, play it cool.
Giving an extra hard swallow of my own, I grab the phone and prepare to hit my mark. I just have to be a spoiled princess. Ask him where he is, then pass the intel to command.
“Serafina.” The poisonous drawl kills my schemes half-cocked, rubbing my flesh like a wire brush.
Danger.
“You’ve grown bold.” Nikolaj’s voice pricks like blood-tipped icicles.
I’m no expert in what a loving parent sounds like, but apparently, neither is my sister.
I may have read her wrong. “I—”
“Did I give you permission to speak?” His bark snaps my teeth.
